A Different Kind of War
by serrine
Summary: When a rebel propagandist is apprehended, she is offered the official position of Imperial Propaganda Architect. Albeit agreeing for her own preservation, she finds herself working closely with the Imperial Navy's notable Grand Admiral Thrawn. Learning from each other through art & their perspectives they become entangled in something completely unexpected.
1. The Propagandist

**Command Bridge**

 **Star Destroyer Chimaera**

 **Hyperspace**

"Grand Admiral Thrawn, sir, we're receiving a message from the Enforcer ," Commander Eli Vanto informed his superior, his face illuminated from the datapad in his hand.

The blue-skinned alien looked over coolly, his red eyes glittering with interest.

"What is it, Commander?" He asked.

"Appears we've been assigned to aid and assist in apprehending a rebel sympathizer on Batuu."

"Just one individual?" Thrawn asked.

Vanto spoke his Admiral's thoughts, "must be someone pretty important to the Rebel Alliance. Maybe they have viable intel."

"Perhaps," Thrawn said gently, "set course to Batuu."

"That's the edge of the Outer Rim," Vanto said, "there's only one reason you'd go that far..."

Thrawn looked at him expectantly.

Vanto looked at his datapad thoughtfully, "you go to hide."

* * *

 **Batuu**

 **Outer Rim**

"I know I'm late on payment, but I need a few more days," Araceilia said firmly to the disgruntled and stern-looking Utapaun towering over her.

His lined, bisected face didn't change. "I give time last cycle. No this time," he argued back in broken Basic.

Araceilia gave a heavy sigh, raking a hand through her long, snarled black locks. She reached deep into her coat pocket. "Here. This is half of what I owe you. I'll give you the rest tomorrow."

The Utapaun's expression didn't shift. Instead, he took the credits and turned away without another word.

Araceilia's stomach grumbled as she watched him leave, scowling. Great. Now she had hardly any credits left for food. Better if she kept herself busy then.

Making her way out of the Spire she headed back to Market Row, keeping her eyes peeled. It wasn't long before she spotted what she was looking for. The tall grey horns of the Terk stood out among the crowd. How he managed to stay an informant without the safety of discretion was beyond her.

"Hey, Jiiu, tell me we're still on for tomorrow."

The Terk turned to face her, the pale fur on his face reflecting the sunlight, his horizontal slit pupils narrowed.

"As far as I know, nothing changed. Why? Something wrong?"

"No. But I need the credits. Fast. Otherwise, I'll have to take free work at the cantina again and sleep behind the Spire." She cringed at the thought, pulling her coat closer as a sudden chill came over her.

"Is there any way we could move our rendezvous to tonight? They're inbound aren't they?" She asked the Terk.

Jiiu pulled out his comm link, "I can try. Gimme me about an hour. Contact should reply by then."

"Thanks, Jiiu."

"And go to the bathhouse. You stink."

* * *

"Grand Admiral, we're about to drop out of hyperspace," The Enforcer's captain informed.

"Sir, Batuu takes all types but our presence may be a little upsetting if we show up with the destroyer."

"Commander Vanto makes a valid point. Captain, drop us out of hyperspace to where we aren't too close to port. The Commander and I will shuttle down. " Thrawn said.

"Yes, sir." The captain replied before turning to give his orders.

Eli hovered near Thrawn. "We'll still be in an Imperial shuttle… Either way, maybe we should ditch the uniforms? I don't know how skittish our sympathizer might be. That way we may have the element of surprise."

Thrawn nodded in agreement, "another excellent suggestion Commander Vanto. Come let us make our preparations."

* * *

It had been almost a half hour. Araceilia checked her rendezvous coordinates again for the umpteenth time. She tapped her foot on the ground. She was restless and was ready to get this over with. She was also ready to go home and sleep off the long night she had previously. She had spent the entirety of the night putting her final touches on the piece. It then took another hour to scan and upload it to a hard drive and finally, destroy the physical piece.

Just think of the credits. She kept telling herself. Soon she could get the hell out of this city and get a pod to put down in the forest some clicks away. Enjoy some peace and quiet. She'd like that.

Leaning against the alley wall, she went to glance at her comm link again, but movement caught the corner of her eye. A man approached her.

He looked her up and down eyeing her seriously before asking, "know where a man can get a drink around here," he looked at his surroundings as he spoke. A nice part about using Smuggler's Alley as a meeting site? No one snitches.

"Oga's is the place," she gave the standard reply as she swept her eyes around the alley to make sure no one would follow. As she walked casually alongside the man she noticed he looked to be a few years younger than her. His hair was dark and his complexion the same as her olive brown. He even had her same chocolate colored eyes. She felt oddly comfortable around him. Which she knew she shouldn't. He was the new contact and this was their first meeting.

"Are you from Vardos?" She asked outright.

The man's eyebrows rose at her random question.

"No. Born and raised on Fest." He replied after a slight hesitation. "Well, until my parents dragged my sister and I into — " He stopped himself before ending with, " — you know what."

She felt a twinge of disappointment. Though she'd forsaken her homeworld years ago she couldn't escape her roots and her wistful thinking of connecting with someone from Vardos again. She hadn't come across a single soul since she'd left. The Empire has made sure of that.

She led them east toward Batuu's tourist hotspot. She had used what little money she had left to clean herself up and buy them a secure meeting spot. This part of the Outpost consisted of a few working locals and the rest were naive tourists. They had many hotels to choose from, most of which didn't even have regular staff. No one recognized her or her companions. They looked like every other tourist.

Dragging her hover-card over the pad, the door to their tiny room slid open. She cranked the faulty lock level into place.

There was just enough room for a bathroom equipped with a toilet and refresher, a small, very uncomfortable bed, and a table with two creaking chairs. The man took a seat while Araceilia began setting up her holo-reader. SAs she stuck the hard drive in, she glanced up at the man, silently asking if he was ready to proceed. He nodded. She flicked on the switch and her latest creation sprang to 3D life in front of them. The man studied it. No expression or comment. Never a good sign. She'd be pissed if they changed their minds now. She didn't have time for that. He rubbed at his chin, the stubble starting to come in.

"Well?" Araceilia probed.

"It's ambitious. Recruiting from the Outer Rim is difficult." The man said, his tone colored with experience.

"After living here for a while, I guess you understand their mentalities better," reassured him, "look, it'll work. The council wanted a new approach. Not the same old message that would get looked over. This is it. Besides, from what I hear, your recruiting stats are dropping fast. What better audience to cater to then the lawless Outer Rim who want nothing to do with the tyranny of the Empire."

"Who's giving you intel on our recruiting?" The man's eyes narrowed.

Araceilia smirked. "No one. Except you just confirmed my suspicion."

The man started to protest but she cut him off. "Which means that this," she gestured to her work and tapped the table for good measure, "will work."

The man crossed his arms over chest and sat back in the chair, contemplating, his eyes focusing on her work.

"The message is good but I'm not confident that the Outer Rim will respond. And the Core wouldn't accept this. It's… edgy." He shook his head, sighing.

"What do you have to lose? Either it works or it doesn't. And you won't know if you don't try."

They locked eyes and sized each other up before the man caved with a sigh.

"Fine. Give me your comm. I'll initiate the transfer."

She handed him her comm while she copied the hard drive's contents over to her contact's. Collapsing her holo-reader and stuffing it in her coat pocket, she took her comm back from the man. She glanced down at the screen and frowned.

"Wait a minute. We agreed on 40%." She stated flatly. This can't be happening.

"I'm sorry but that was the amount I was authorized to send. As you figured out, we're hurting in more ways than one and funding is one of them. We took a big hit recently and —" he stopped himself. Araceilia gave him a look of sarcasm at his misplaced trust issues. How long had she been working with them now?

" — and we haven't recovered." He finished, studying the hard drive in his hand.

"Big hit as in what happened on Sidau 2?" She asked.

The man squinted and shook his head. "No, that was an extremist group."

Araceilia read his body language and tone easily. He was lying. But she didn't have time to worry about their next move. Especially if they were dishing out pay cuts and she was one of them.

"Well, we're done here. I'll wait for your next assignment. And I'll brainstorm some ideas to pitch to the Council next cycle." She said.

They stood up together. She held out her hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you…?" She implied.

The man hesitated again, before replying, "Lieutenant Cassian Andor."

"Araceilia Calthese."

They shook hands before she led them to the door, the loud snap of the lock release signaling their time together was over. She let Cassian exit the building first.

* * *

Eli braced himself as the shuttle touch down in the docking bay. The loud sizzle as the shuttle decompressed filled his ears as the ramp began to fall, revealing a bustling environment filled with many different species hurrying to and fro.

Thrawn stood next to him, his hands behind his back, his eyes looking out into the bay.

Once the ramp hit the ground with a resounding echo, Eli waited for Thrawn to move before following his lead. They headed into the frazzled crowd.

"Where should we begin, sir?" Eli asked Thrawn.

"We know nothing of our contact other than their signature on their artwork. Cignis." Thrawn said thoughtfully. "Perhaps we asked around?"

"If I were a rebel sympathizer," Thrawn continued, "I would conduct my business somewhere rather busy. A place you could talk but not be overheard, yet not look out of place. We should find a place that fits that description."

Eli chuckled, pausing their step. "Sounds like the local cantina is your place, then."

Thrawn gave a slight smile. "Excellent idea, Commander."

* * *

"The first thing you do when you get paid is buy a drink…" Jiiu judged.

Araceilia smirked as the Quarren behind the bar slid her a shimmering, red drink, the bubbling froth steaming slightly. Araceilia hesitantly sipped the drink as she turned to face her friend.

"Hey, what a girl does with her credits is her business. The faster you learn that the better."

The Terk shrugged, sweeping his eyes over the bar's attendants.

"See them yet?" She asked.

"Yes, they're in the corner. Well, this is where I leave you. Later." Jiiu said, turning to leave before Araceilia could react. She was used to his behavior and didn't bother to reply.

Wedged between patrons at the corner of the bar, she took a long swig of her drink. As she went to place her now empty glass down, the front door slid open and Araceilia froze.

Two individuals stepped through the door. One was a human male, close to her age, and the other was… She felt taken aback. She had never seen his species before. Assuming it was a 'he'. He looked almost human, only taller, with blue skin and his eyes—they were red.

She swallowed and dropped her eyes, taking glances at them with her head down as they looked around, the blue-skinned alien scanning the crowd with a scrutinizing gaze. They wore nondescript clothes but the way they held themselves and the air their presence gave, it made her mind ring with alarm.

They were Imperials. The Empire was here. On Batuu. And her first reaction was that they were here for her.

Deep in her realization, she came to and found herself staring back into the red eyes of the non-human Imperial. He had locked eyes with her.

She had to leave. Now.


	2. Cignis

Hello! Thank you for the follow, reviews, and favorites!

 _ **IMPORTANT NOTE:** When it comes to Thrawn's POV, for those of you who have read the latest Thrawn books, you're well adapted. Those who have not, I decided to adopt Timothy Zahn's approach to writing Thrawn. His thoughts and observations will appear in italics and present tense when in his POV. I'm crossing my fingers that I did a decent job and that you all can understand and follow. Feedback is welcomed on that factor and comments are welcomed in general :)_

Enjoy!

* * *

"Well, here we are, sir," Commander Vanto gestured to the doorway of the cantina.

 _A worn-down neon sign flashes above their heads reading Oga's Cantina. A few of the letters are dim, their light almost at its end._

The door slid open and Thrawn entered first, Commander Vanto at his heels.

 _The cantina is dimly lit and crowded. A handful of worn, wooden tables are strewn about closest to the door, their wooden stools creaking under the weight of the drunken patrons they hold up. Booths sit against the wall to their left. A particular group of rambunctious Shistavanens with their clawed paws scraping against the table, ignore their presence altogether, too wrapped up in what looks to be a fang length comparison._

Thrawn's gaze finds a corner booth that consisted of a scrubby-looking human male and a curiously goat-like alien talking between their drinks, their heads low. _The alien glances over, a look of discontent barely concealed._ Thrawn mentally noted that group as a suspect. He then swept his eyes over to the bar on the far wall in front of them. _A U-shaped bar, its wood so worn down it shines, is tended by a Quarren whose tentacled mouth quivers as he speaks to patrons._ Thrawn's eyes traveled to the end of the bar to find a human woman staring back at him. _She holds her glass mere inches from the counter surface. Her eyes are wide in disbelief, fear rising in them._

Commander Vanto, looking in the opposite direction and entirely ignorant to the situation at hand leans closer to Thrawn, speaking in a low voice, "so far most don't seem to notice our presence. Off to a good start but I'd say we better get some drinks and have a seat at that booth against the wall over there… Might be a good place to keep an eye on—" Eli stopped when he caught the exchange between Thrawn and the woman at the bar.

In the few moments it took for Thrawn to meet her gaze and Eli to realize what had transpired, the woman was on her feet and through a door on the back wall. With a look, both Thrawn and Eli quickly headed in her direction. They took consideration when approaching the door to make sure they weren't under scrutiny. A few follow their steps with their gazes. A nod from Thrawn as they swung through the door into a small back room. Across from them, another door stood slightly ajar.

Pushing open the next door, Thrawn and Eli found themselves in a tight, poorly lit back alley, the only light coming from the exposed bulb above the cantina's alley door. A quick look in both directions told them she was no longer in the alley.

"I suppose that was a pretty solid lead. Now the question is, which way did she go?" Commander Vanto asked.

Thrawn, behind him, replied softly, "Up…" Eli turned to look at Thrawn.

Thrawn stood next to the cantina's wall that looked to be entirely made up of a petrified tree, its once-rough bark now a textured wall. He brought up his hand and gestured to a spot. "Handholds."

Eli's gaze softened in realization. Their gaze traveled up the wall and Eli saw that near the top one could jump to the side of the pedestrian bridge above. He sighed.

"She could be anywhere by now. Maybe we can go ask the bartender if he knows her?" Eli ventured.

"Yes, Commander. That is a start." Thrawn replied, his glowing eyes narrowed as he studied the path the woman must have taken.

As the two were moving through the backroom to return to the cantina, Thrawn's commlink beeped with an alert. Pausing, he responded and a shimmering holo-projection of the woman they had just encountered flickered to life.

"It appears we have a face to our sympathizer," Thrawn drawled.

* * *

Kriff, kriff, kriffing kriff. Araceilia frantically stuffed her possessions into her backpack. This was not good. Not good at all. She was an anonymous artist but it was the anonymous artist for rebels against the Empire that was causing her stomach to knot. She threw the last of her things into her bag, slamming her weight on it to tie it shut. Blowing strands of hair out of her face she grabbed at anything that could link her, her work, or the Rebellion.

"I'm not even a rebel. Kriff." Araceilia muttered to herself as she finished piling up her evidence, the last addition was her comm. She took her paint and started throwing it on every surface she could. She concentrated on the pile in the center of the room, drawing a line out from it leading to the front door. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, cloak on, hood up, she took a glance around what had been her home for almost five years—A home she was about to destroy.

With a small clink, she opened her small lighter, touching the flame to the paint. She grimaced and got out of the building before the fire roared to life.

* * *

 _The bartender looks annoyed._ "I don't know her name or anything about her other than she likes her Blurggfire's. She does talk to the Terk—Er, the goat-looking fellow in the corner. See em' together a lot."

"Very well. Thank you for your help." Thrawn replied, turning to seek out the Terk.

Thrawn found that he was nowhere to be found. Eli huffed beside him.

"Well, sir. Now what?" Commander Vanto asked as they walked out into the streets again, the enticing smell of sizzling street food reaching them.

Before Thrawn could reply, a commotion above them hooked their attention. _The pedestrian bridge wraps around a spiral-like building that rises up high. A fire burns through a window, the flames reaching for the sky. Groups of beings yell, helping to put the flames out, getting residents to safety. Droids equipped with water hoses spray at the fire._

Thrawn looked back to Eli, noting, "a perfect distraction."

Eli's eyebrows knit together, trying to piece together the scene. _He relaxes as he understands._ "A perfect distraction to run. But where to? You thinking the docking bay?" Eli asked.

"That is precisely what I am thinking. Come, Commander. Let us investigate." Thrawn said, heading down the street.

* * *

With guilt buried inside her, Araceilia hoped that none of her neighbors would be harmed. She had been reckless and selfish, panicked and didn't stop to consider the consequences. She was a horrible person, this she already knew. No one to care for but yourself. It must be a lonely life. Her mother's bitter words echoed in her head.

She snapped out of her thoughts. She didn't have time to dwell on her past or her actions other than those at the present. With her face hidden under her hood, she walked inconspicuously into Docking Bay 9. She paused near one of the entrances, letting those around her go ahead. A glance to her left at the terminal departure schedule showed no public transports leaving for another 30 minutes.

She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. She had time. If she could remain under the radar for the next 20 minutes she could board early. As her eyes peered around the bay her heart dropped.

There in the far corner, gleaming black and foreboding, sat an Imperial TY992 Shuttle.

Well, there went her plan. Her instincts told her the Imperials would be back shortly when they couldn't find her. And they would leave eventually. A plan began to form in Araceilia's mind.

She walked out of the bay and over to a local food vendor, ordering three kabobs of mystery meat. Taking the wrapped food, she stopped next at a street vendor selling produce.

"Two of these. And five of those. And one of these." She said as she gestured to the various plants and fruits.

Hands full, she gave the old human woman a few extra credits for a bag. She hunkered her head down and made her way north, the streets thinning, a line of trees coming ever closer. She knew about twelve miles north was a kind family of ex-enslaved humans. She had painted a family portrait once for them in her early days on Batuu, only a few months before she had made a spontaneous and completely random run-in with Jiiu and learned of the Rebellion. She grimaced at the thought of if the Imperials found her hide-out and what the fate of the family would be. But how the hell would they find her? Unless they had a damn good tracker with them she was set.

* * *

"Nothing, sir. The monitor droid's footage shows no facial recognition. And Batuu doesn't have street surveillance so we're out of luck there." Eli informed Thrawn aboard the shuttle.

"We wait," Thrawn said.

"Sir?" Eli questioned.

"We wait until she returns. But first, we need to return to the _Chimaera_ and have a pilot bring us back down to ensure the shuttle is not here when our sympathizer returns." Thrawn explained.

"Ah, the shuttle must've scared her off then. She's clever…" Eli observed, "But sir, what makes you think she didn't bribe someone to take her off-world? Docking ledger shows two ships have left in the last hour." Eli said.

"I believe our sympathizer wouldn't have had the time. Too little has gone by since the fire's inception for her to secure passage."

"You really think that fire was her? Not a coincidence?" Eli countered.

"Yes. It was her. I am sure of it." Thrawn drawled.

Eli had learned long ago not to question Thrawn's hunches. His record preceded him.

* * *

"Hello?" Araceilia called into the darkened hallway.

The house was abandoned. An absence of furniture and a layer of dust and debris on the floor told her so. This scenario was better than she thought. Now she didn't have to possibly add more casualties to her list in her grand escape plan. Going to the back room she dumped her backpack's contents out on a table and scraped through, finding her portable lantern. With a few shakes, the low light flickered on. She threw off her cloak and put on her coat, kicking her boots off in the process. Using the rest of her clothes to pad the floor, she lied down, wiped from her adrenaline and her hike. Covering up with her cloak she quickly fell asleep.

She awoke later, blinded by the light streaming in through the windows. She stirred slowly, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Sitting up, she let the events of last night hit her. With a heavy sigh, she reached over and grabbed her bag of food, mindlessly munching away. Her next move would be to make sure that the Imperial shuttle had left. She had killed time here but she figured another day would be best.

After rationing out the rest of her food, she pulled on her boots and made her way out of the house. The sun reflected off the pines and leafy trees around her. The promise of a mild day convinced her to tug off her coat. She might as well make the most of her time and spend the day soaking up the quiet, peaceful solitude she found herself in.

Heading toward the sound of rushing water, she trekked a few minutes before a small mountain stream rushed downhill in front of her. Finding a nice rock to sun on she sprawled out and closed her eyes.

The worries ahead swirled around in her mind. Taking deep breaths she tried to calm herself. 'What-If' scenarios ran through her head and she couldn't stop them. Her pulse quickened and she sat up abruptly, her hopes of a peaceful day gone.

How could she be content knowing the Empire was hunting her?

* * *

 _The sky outside the docking bay darkens._ It had been a full day since the discovery of their sympathizer's whereabouts. Thrawn and Commander Vanto now waited outside one of the bay's entrances. Bribing a local smuggler, they had secured their bait. The sympathizer would most likely ask around or see the man beginning preparations for departure, as was the part of the bribe.

Thrawn watched as the streets around them flickered with the ignition of lights. The docking bay's lights turned on shortly after.

"Sir," Eli said, grabbing Thrawn's attention. He gestured across the bay.

"We have a visual. Confirm." Thrawn said into his comm as his eyes landed on their sympathizer.

 _She wears a cloak. A hood hiding most of her face, some of her long, dark hair falling around it. Her eyes dart wildly around. Her chest moves rapidly with each breath._

"Confirmed, Grand Admiral," the hidden stormtrooper sergeant on the other side of bay replied on Thrawn's comm.

"Wait for my approach. Follow shortly after and surround us." Thrawn instructed.

"Yes, sir," the reply came as Thrawn nodded to Eli next to him.

 _The sympathizer approaches the smuggler, showing him what was most likely credits in her hand. The man assesses his surroundings and takes the credits. He makes eye contact._

"Cignis, I presume. What a pleasure it is to meet you." Thrawn said as came to stand behind the woman, the troopers already moving into position, surrounding them. The smuggler looks down and backs away. Thrawn gives him a silent, commendable nod.

The woman spins around, her eyes settling on him. He watches in fascination as the fear and panic gives way to a stoic, hard stare.


	3. The Sympathizer

_"Shuttle TY992, transmit clearance codes,"_ a stern voice requested over the comm receiver in the cockpit.

The shuttle pilot quickly replied with, "copy, _Chimaera,_ transmitting codes now."

After a moment's hesitation, the voice on the other end confirmed clearance.

The pilot turned his head toward the back of the shuttle to address its passengers, "prepare for landing."

Araceilia observed the scene silently as she sat between two stormtroopers, their posture rigid and weapons menacingly at the ready. Another three sat across from her. The other five stood cramped around them, gripping the support straps for balance. The strange, blue-skinned alien she had come to find out was an Imperial Grand Admiral sat nearest the cockpit. She avoided his gaze; She hadn't made eye contact with the Grand Admiral since her capture. What the hell was his business with her? He was an enormously important figure of the Imperial Navy. She was a nobody. She needed to keep telling herself that. Deny, deny, deny. It was the only way she was going to get out of this. How could she have been so stupid? Then again, she was slightly impressed that any Imperial moron could have figured her out. She had the feeling she wasn't dealing with just any Imperial though. From the sparse moments they had together, Araceilia knew deep down her usual wits wouldn't work. Not with him. She could feel his eyes on her and it made her skin crawl.

A lurch signaled their arrival. The sharp hiss of the decompressors echoed as the ramp descended. The Grand Admiral and his commanding officer, or his pet, as she had affectionately referred to him in her head, lead the way. The sergeant of the stormtrooper squad exited next followed by two troopers. Hauled to her feet, her hands banging against the stun cuffs wrapped around her wrists, two other troopers gripped her arm on either side, while the rest trailed behind them.

As she made her way down the ramp, the sheer size and grandiose of a star destroyer hangar bay absorbed her attention. Her mouth fell open slightly as her eyes swept the hangar. The number of ships and weaponry was astonishing. Suddenly feeling very small yet trapped, Araceilia tried her best to swallow her apprehension. Fleeing clearly wasn't an option. She'd have to talk her way out. And she wasn't feeling too confident.

"Come on. Move." The trooper behind her demanded, prompting the other two at her sides to roughly jerk her forward. She shoved back at the one on the left, before the strong grip on her right arm halted her motion, yanking her back to the center. She huffed.

"Is this really necessary?" She broke her silence, calling to the sergeant.

He ignored her.

The Grand Admiral halted and turned to address the sergeant. The trooper's helmet moved in a nod. The Grand Admiral and his lackey walked away, the trooper squadron breaking apart. Now it was just her, one trooper in front, two at each side, and one at the rear.

The sergeant barked his orders. "Take her to a holding cell. Tell whoever is on watch duty to await further instruction."

* * *

Her cell was… nice, as far as Imperial standards went. All sharp angles and cold durasteel. At least those damned cuffs were gone. She laid in silence, her hands resting behind her head, eyes staring at the ceiling. The soft whirring of the destroyer was lulling her to sleep, a welcome escape from the circles her mind was currently running in.

The door to her prison pit abruptly opened. She sat up rigidly. Two troopers stepped down and stood at attention on either side of the doorway as a man walked after. Long nose, squinty eyes. He was dressed in a command uniform.

"I am Lieutenant Rodkin," He began, his voice overtly commanding. "You are here under the pretense and charge of being a sympathizer to the rebellion against the Empire. How do you plead?"

Araceilia dropped her eyes, studying the floor. She refused further eye contact and made no attempt to respond.

"I said," The lieutenant's voice got louder, pronouncing each word with care, as if to a child, "how do you plead?"

Araceilia remained as she was. She heard the man give an exasperated sigh. His tone became flustered. "I know you speak basic and can clearly understand me. Answer me!" He commanded.

After another uncooperative moment, the man's voice rose to a near shout. "Fine. You're only making this difficult for yourself. I'll have the interrogator droid stop by for a visit then." He paused expecting her confession. When none came, she heard another sigh and the stomping of boots as they exited her cell. The door shut with finality and she was in darkness again.

Hours passed and when the door slid open, Araceilia's heart jumped to her throat. But instead of an interrogation droid, there stood only two troopers, cuffs at the ready.

As she was coerced through the destroyer's many corridors she tried to get her bearings. It was hopeless. Everything looked the same after a while. And they had moved quite a distance from her prison cell.

Two turbolift rides later and they arrived on a floor that appeared more elegant than the rest. Heavy foot traffic didn't traverse these corridors often judging by the clean appearance of the floor and walls. Led down the hall, she was jerked to a halt outside a door. One of the troopers pressed a button on the access panel.

"We have the prisoner for you, sir," The trooper informed whoever was on the other side.

The door slid open with a hiss, revealing an office. Straight ahead, sitting behind a desk with his hands steepled together sat the alien Grand Admiral, his red eyes burning into hers.


	4. The Proposition

_"We have the prisoner for you, sir."_

The filtered voice of a trooper buzzed over the room comm. Thrawn closed down the holofile he had been viewing and pressed a button, the door hissing open, revealing his challenge.

 _Her eyes are on his. Her expression is hard, yet there is wariness, surprise, and a hint of fear. Her posture is rigid. Her mouth turns down into a slight frown. The troopers usher her in halting behind the chair._ He stares at her for a moment, deciding. He gestures to the troopers.

"There is no need for restraints here. Remove them and leave us."

 _Her eyes widen in surprise. The troopers hesitate before following orders._ Thrawn holds out a hand signaling for her to sit. _She glances behind her, watching the troopers leave. She turns back and sits. She trains her eyes on a Rodian sculpture in the left corner of the room. Her eyes are now steel._

"Araceilia Calthese. You are here under the pretense of being a rebel sympathizer. You have refused to cooperate. I am giving you the opportunity to defend yourself without immediate judgment."

 _She does not move. Her mouth set in a stubborn line, she keeps her eyes on the Rodian statue._

Thrawn leans back in his chair.

"You do realize that you are only making your outcome more dire by not speaking? By doing so, I have no choice but to assume your guilt."

No response.

Thrawn continued, judging her reaction. "Despite your ostensible involvement with the rebels, I must say, it is an honor to meet you..."

His words give the reaction he was after. _She jerks up in her seat. Her eyes ablaze with emotion._

"What is that supposed to mean?" She spits out. _The emotions on her face pass quickly before being replaced with scorn. She laughs. It holds no humor._ "Am I to be flattered, Grand Admiral?"

* * *

 _"Am I to be flattered, Grand Admiral?"_

Well, so much for going the meek, helpless route. Araceilia mentally groaned at herself. Once again, she let her emotions get the best of her. Despite her outburst and blatant disrespect, the Grand Admiral's eyes curiously showed nothing but interest in her response.

"I have been monitoring your work for a while now," Thrawn said thoughtfully. "Granted, I did not know who you were. I have no doubt that the rebels would not have the recruits they do now without your work."

Araceilia's eyes narrowed. He was clearly playing the flattery game. He wanted her confession. Fine. She thought. What did she have to lose?

"I'm not a rebel." She simply stated.

He was silent for a moment, mulling over her words.

"Then what are you?" He asked.

"I'm an artist. And I'm good at what I do. A convenient turn of events… put me on their radar. I offered my skills, told them what it could do for them. I needed the credits. It has—was— purely transactional for me." Araceilia replied matter-of-factly.

"Then I am to understand you hold no political allegiance to the rebels? You stand with the Empire?" Thrawn asked.

Araceilia shrugged. "I don't care who is in charge. And I don't care who wins."

"I find that difficult to believe," Thrawn remarked.

"Most find comfort in standing for something. I find comfort in job security. Conflict breeds opinions. Opinions breed publicity and in turn, propaganda. They'll always be two sides to a political agenda. Especially in a galaxy that will never know peace."

"That is quite a cynical viewpoint you have, Miss Calthese."

"No. It's logical. Peace is a delusion." Araceilia snapped back.

She watched as Thrawn's gaze turned to something else. Admiration? It was gone before she could pin it down.

"Indeed it is…" Thrawn cryptically agreed. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the desk. "Thank you for cooperating. I believe you. I have a proposition for you."

* * *

Thrawn watches her carefully. _Her eyebrows knit together. Her eyes hold suspicion._

"You say that you hold no political allegiance. That you are…" Thrawn paused, "in for the credits, yes? The Empire's present interests align with your skillset. We could use a brilliant mind and artist like yourself."

 _She smirks; Her expression smug._

"Your recruiting numbers low? Wouldn't surprise me. The Empire isn't exactly thought of and depicted as the good guys." _Her voice is full of pride._

Thrawn gave a small smile. "No thanks to your expertise working with the rebels against us." Thrawn got up, pacing behind his desk.

"Concerning our negative depiction, that is a narrative that must change. Change in which you can bring about."

"How much?" Araceilia asked. _Her ebony hair shifts as she leans forward, completely engaged._

Thrawn paused for effect.

"Triple what the rebels paid you."

 _She does not hide the shock that takes over her facial features. She laughs, this time preposterously._ "Triple?!," she whispers in wonder, her eyes looking quickly around the room. "Maker, how desperate are you?" _A smile creeps over her lips._

Thrawn narrowed his eyes. "Desperation is not the reason. The rebels are growing each day and we need to counter their movement with our own. The galaxy is already aware of the Empire's might. Let us remind them of it. We need to let the galaxy know that the Empire will not tolerate the actions of these rebels. They are to be called out as they are: criminals. Anarchists."

 _She swallows, clearly nervous._ He continues in a lighter one, trying to convince her. "This is where you would come in. Change the narrative."

They stared at one another. _Her face holds conflict. Her jaw works as she considers._ "Alright, Grand Admiral, you have yourself a deal."

Thrawn commed to the hallway calling the troopers back in.

 _Her eyes narrow in betrayal. Her mouth begins to open as if about to protest._ Thrawn interrupts her before she can speak. "Troopers, take Miss Calthese to our guest quarters. She is no longer a prisoner. She is a passenger."

He watched her expression change to satisfaction and relief.

He alerted the bridge and Commander Vanto's voice rang out. _"Yes, Grand Admiral?"_

"Set course for Coruscant. You have control of the bridge for the duration of travel." Thrawn informed.

"Yes, sir."

Thrawn caught the woman's gaze once more before she turned to leave.

* * *

Thank. The. Maker. Araceilia thought as she flopped down on her new quarter's bed, grinning up at the ceiling. She could never have guessed the outcome of that encounter. She expected to plead innocence and either a) they'd let her go, b) they'd detain her further, or c) send her to a labor camp "to be safe". She was aiming for her to be let go. Sure, she'd be out of work. But let her go with a job offer? No way on a meteor did she see that coming.

Triple the credits… She hadn't had that much income or security for the last twelve years before she left home. What would she even buy? She could finally afford a reliable commlink. Even the latest model with all the upgrades all the super-mega-rich kids had in her academy days. She could have an entire wardrobe full of clothes that didn't have holes and stains in them. The possibilities were almost too large to wonder.

Her mind then took a turn to the more serious matter in front of her. She'd be an employee of the Empire. An asset to the military machine. Or would she be just another cog? She assumed she would be on Coruscant, at the heart of it all. Who would she work with? Maybe she'd get her own creative team to bark orders at? Nah, she preferred solitude. Better for creativity and flow. She hoped they give her assignments and leave her well enough alone. But that seemed too good to be true. From what she heard, the Empire liked breathing down your neck to remind you that you're not in control. They are.

The sour pull in her stomach caused her eye to twitch. With the rebels, she had chosen to be their propagandist. The Empire forced her hand. What would have happened if she didn't agree to the job? " Oh, okay, we'll just put you back where we found you. Enjoy your life." Araceilia couldn't help but snort with laughter at that imaginative scenario and the utter absurdity her life had become.

High from the prospects but apprehensive about the future, she gave a great yawn, before rolling under the covers for a long-overdue sleep.


End file.
